


Ties That Bind

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - High School, Deepthroating, Implied or Off-stage Domestic Violence, M/M, Nipple Play, Other, Prom, the hunger dance of the lovestruck kaijiru, too many descriptions of finery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A high school AU set in a D/s universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Date Movie

Bruce can hardly breathe, waiting for Tony. God, if this is some sick fucking joke, if Tony stands him up, Bruce will quietly go back to the shelter and... well, he can't kill himself, he's all his mom has now. He's pondering what to do about that when Tony finally shows up, waving enthusiastically as ever and looking as perfect as always. It's just a movie, nothing to dress up for, but Bruce still feels like the complete scrub that he is in the sturdy hand-me-downs he's been wearing for the past six weeks.

"Roadwork," Tony says, coming closer. "Sorry about that." He grins at Bruce, eyes sparkling. "So, what's this thing called?"

"'Darkstep.' PG-13 horror, but it might not suck."

"Worth a shot, anyway," Tony says, and reaches across his body to take Bruce's hand and wrap it around his other wrist as if they do this every day. Bruce blushes, squeezing Tony's wrist and leading the way inside.

'Darkstep' does not suck. 'Darkstep,' in fact, is fucking terrifying. Tony doesn't like to admit to this kind of thing, but he's really glad that Bruce is still holding his wrist on the way out. It makes him feel a little safer even as he sticks close to Bruce's side and casts nervous eyes around at the darkness to be sure that no goddamn Faceless Ones are lurking in it. The buses have stopped running and the shelter is locked for the night, which means that Bruce has to sleep over. It's the only good thing about Bruce's situation, and Tony is determined to make the best of it for both of them.

Bruce takes the car keys from him, but only to unlock it and open the driver's side for Tony, handing them back with a shy grin. "I don't have my license, and I know you like to drive, anyway."

Tony grins back, starting the engine. "Get in, sir." Something dark and a little scary flickers in Bruce's eyes at that, and he climbs into the shotgun seat without a word. Tony shivers, and studies Bruce as he buckles his seatbelt. Bruce may be the dom here, but goddamn does Tony want to dress him.

"You hungry?"

"Always."

"Drive-thru or something at home? There's this great twenty-four-hour pizza place and we've got some leftovers… Oh, and we should be quiet because Jarvis is old and has suffered enough." He heads out of the parking lot, filled with the restless urge to just drive all night instead of going anywhere.

"It's totally weird that you have a butler."

"Really, he's like some kind of nanny/personal physician/third parent/butler hybrid superbeing."

"That's even weirder," Bruce murmurs, glasses gleaming in the streetlights.

"Yeah. I try not to aggravate him too much." He watches the play of light and shadow on the road, still jittery.

"Freaked out?"

"No!" Tony squeaks. "…Okay. Maybe. A little."

"Sorry if it was too effective."

"Don't be, lets me know I'm alive. You a real horror junkie?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Straight home, if you don't mind," he adds, answering the tilt of Tony's head toward an upcoming exit.

Sure enough, Jarvis is in bed when they get back. He has left them soup and a note outlining the available sandwich fixings and other accommodations, and soon they're encamped in Tony's room with separate cups and one massive plate. Bruce is way too shy to feed Tony, but he doesn't object to him glomming onto his side and clinging with the hand that isn't managing his food.

"Easy," Bruce murmurs, and wraps an arm around Tony.

"I'm not scared," Tony lies, and switches on the nice, innocuous movie in the DVD player from last night. He's even doing a pretty good job keeping his cool until a there's a delicate scraping and tapping from the window, like eldritch entities trying to come in. He meeps before he can help it, and scrambles into Bruce's lap.

"Ssshh. It's just a branch." He kisses Tony's head, nuzzling his hair.

"…Man, I bet if Elaine's dom had been more like you, he woulda made it through the movie."

"Fuck him," Bruce growls, unexpectedly harsh. "That prick acted like my dad, she's better off without him."

Tony cuddles closer, hugging Bruce. "Yeah." He feels like he's supposed to be going back to where he was, but he likes it here, dammit. "That thing about the sandwiches was a dick move." After all, everybody forgets things, and what's a dom who doesn't forgive his sub?

"It only starts with sandwiches. I'm glad they killed him off."

They had too, good and hard and within the first ten minutes. Tony shivers, recalling the hands reaching out of the mirror and the horrible, spectral laughter as they had dragged him screaming into the Dark. Bruce chuckles and cuddles him close. "My poor Tony."

"Hey, I'm just glad it was good enough to scare me." He blushes furiously. "I mean—"

"It's cute," Bruce murmurs, and suddenly Tony can't fucking breathe.

"O-oh?"

"Yeah." He rubs Tony's back and holds him close, arms stronger than they look. Tony shivers and hides his face in Bruce's neck. "Besides," Bruce says, almost too quiet to hear even this close, "I'd protect you."

Tony whimpers, suddenly shivering with something that's a long way from fear. Bruce swallows hard, and then reaches for Tony's wrists, crossing them behind Tony's back. He holds them in place with one hand, his loose and gentle grip making it clear that he only wants Tony's submission if Tony wants to give it. Tony shudders and moans because fuck, he does want to. He melts against Bruce, sucking and nibbling at his neck and loving the low growl he makes in response. Bruce's grip on his wrists tightens and his other hand knots into Tony's hair, pulling his head back and making him moan again. He's hard already, of course. He fucking charted it once, and he actually does spend more of his waking hours hard than not. He shifts to straddle Bruce and stares into his eyes, heart pounding.

"Please, sir," he whispers, and he's not even sure what he's asking for. Bruce just growls and kisses him, rough and claiming and so good. Tony whines and struggles to rut against him, squirming and whimpering. He sounds pathetic, but Bruce seems to like it and right now that's enough to make anything all right.


	2. Beauty

No one can quite believe it when Steve shows up with the ridiculously hot Asgardian exchange student on a leash, but it's clearly happening. Steve blushes a little, but Thor just beams. It should be ridiculous, scrawny little Steve towing this enormous piece of god-like perfection around, but instead it just sort of fits. When they have to separate for Art and Woodshop respectively, they clip it to the cuff around one wrist and Thor bows his head so Steve can kiss him, making a happy little mewling noise.

At lunch Thor actually kneels at Steve's feet to be hand-fed, which is a big enough surprise without the graceful and effortlessly dominant way Steve does it. It's an old-fashioned and intimate thing for a public space, but not technically against the school's PDA policy. At the end of the meal Thor thanks Steve softly and kisses his hand. Bucky grins, crumpling up his own brown paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trashcan.

"Damn," Sam mumurs, impressed. Both of them are unattached Doms, and Thor glances over at them and grins before remembering this fact, blushing and looking back to Steve, who just smiles and pets him.

"I only want downcast eyes when you want them or when I've asked for them, Thor." He kisses the top of Thor's head and gets up, collecting their trash. "I'll throw this out, you get on to English before you're late again."

"Yes, sir," Thor says, beaming. He rises up and stretches, makes sure his leash is properly clipped before kissing Steve's cheek and making a beeline for his locker. Their first proper date is tonight, and he doesn't want to blow it by getting detention. He scurries to class and sits in the back, doing his best to pay attention. But English is an awkward language and no fun to write. And he has Steve to daydream about, his sweet, delicate master. He loves that he can pick Steve up so easily and that it does nothing to undermine his natural authority. The only thing Thor frets about is Steve's asthma, and that's because he can't protect Steve from that. He can only wait for the attacks to pass and rub that thin back as it heaves with wheezing and coughing.

Today has been a good day, though. And Thor is hoping Steve will let him carry a second inhaler soon. It would make him feel better to have one on hand just in case. He manages to get the one question the teacher asks him right, and bounds away after class with everyone else. He barrels through the halls, dodging people and barely beating Steve to his locker, grinning at him when he comes walking up.

"Sir."

Steve grins back and kisses Thor. "My own," he says, and blushes, breaking away to enter his combination and haul his battered backpack out. "We're still on for tonight, yeah?"

"Of course. I made it to English in time."

Steve's apartment is one of the cheap ones near the school, and there's a lot wrong with it but one saving grace is how close it is to the art museum. Steve volunteers there and so gets in with a guest for a reduced rate. First they greet his mother and get their afternoon snack, though. She makes each of them a sandwich and sets out grapes to go with it. She's a domme, but she's a service top like her son and frets for him to eat more. He smiles at her and tackles the second half of his sandwich, muttering, "Okay, Ma. You know Thor pesters me to eat too."

"Then I know you've found a good sub," she says, and Thor glows with pride even though her eyes are sad. Steve has mentioned that his father left ages ago but that he doesn't really know why, because his mother never talks about it.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Of course. More fruit?"

He takes more when it's offered, and then heads out to the museum with Steve. Thor is curious to see anything about this new country, and Steve absolutely loves art. Thor had seen his hands on the first day and known that he must. Thor is an artist in his own way, but more in the line of building furniture and making lamps. Steve lurks in the art room at school for just about every break or free period he gets, working on projects and maintaining the place. It was where Thor had tracked him down at last and offered himself up. He smiles now to think of how surprised Steve had been. Now he leads Thor by the leash, like a proper Asgardian dom. The custom is changing at home as more subs work outside the home and have steering wheels and automatic doors to get caught in, but Thor is never giving up his leash. It feels so right in Steve's hand.

Later on at the museum, glutted on beauty, Thor drags Steve into a quiet corner, quietly begging for a kiss and purring when he gets one, holding Steve close. It's a little like holding one of the doves Mother keeps in the old cote at home. They're stupid, filthy things, but they're sweet to hold because they fit in his palm and are so warm and fragile and their little hearts beat so fast. Steve whimpers into his mouth and Thor shudders all over, wanting to fall to his knees.


	3. Collared

Clint fucking hates being a sub. As far as he can tell, it's just a license for people to try to push him around. Try is the operative word, because Clint doesn't obey anybody. Well, okay. He listens to Mr. Coulson because Mr. Coulson is also a sub and doesn't take any shit from anyone, but any dom trying to boss him around can go piss up a rope.

And then the new girl locks eyes with him and he wants to fall to his knees before he even knows her name. Figures she doesn't even know he exists, and he finds himself following her around like the saddest kind of loser, but he just can't help himself. Just the thought of one of those delicate hands on his throat makes him sweat, and when he makes his way to his usual (borderline secret) spot for lunch and sees her there, he whimpers before he can keep quiet. She doesn't even say anything, just waves him over and smiles when he drops to his knees, petting him and gripping the back of his neck like the only collar he has ever wanted.

"Mine now?" Natasha murmurs, and Clint whimpers again, nodding and hiding his face in the outside of her thigh, breathing in the scent of her skin through the denim and wondering if he's going to fucking die. "So pretty." Natasha strokes his hair for another moment. "Hungry?"

"…Yeah." Clint is always fucking hungry, and blushes brick red to see Natasha pull what looks like a laundry sack out of her backpack.

"I thought you might be."

"Knew I was comin' by, huh?"

"You've been watching me. Stood to reason you'd approach at some point."

"Oh."

"It would've gone the other way around if you hadn't come to me by tomorrow. I'm patient, but it's not endless." She starts laying out sandwich after sandwich, each one in its own neat bag, along with individual bags of chips. "I know you hate the salt and vinegar kind, but that's about all I can be sure of."

"…You a service top?"

"Sort of. I take care of my things."

Clint is kind of pissed at the way that goes straight to his cock, and covers it by attacking the food. She's done pretty well for not knowing him better, even if he does hate egg salad. She eats those herself, and strokes his hair as he demolishes the rest. He feels like a pet cat, and vows there and then not to mention the parallel to Natasha, because he knows he'd wear ears and a tail if she wanted him to.

"Thank you for feeding me," he mutters, resting his head on her knee again.

"You're welcome, darling."

Clint has never thought it would be this easy, but apparently it is. Natasha picks him up at the Home and drops him off too, and the house mom seems to like her, sometimes letting her in after visiting hours so they can sit in the dayroom and talk, or so Clint can kneel at her feet while they don't talk. He feels so… subby with her. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her, and he finds himself craving a way to show it. She's in a foster home and about as broke as he is, so she can't afford a real collar just yet, but Clint treasures the collar she makes for him, a cheap but nice clasp attached to a length of blue ribbon. The clasp is silver-colored and its attached tag with an N on the front and 'Property of Natasha Romanov' scratched into the back rests in the hollow of his throat. A lot of his t-shirts have the collars ripped off, and the ribbon is clearly visible.

The first time Clint comes to school with the ribbon he can't help but be self-conscious, touching it what feels like every three seconds. Tony wolf-whistles and cheers when he sees him, but of course he would. Tony has been wearing a brown patent leather collar made of Bruce's best belt for the past three weeks. It suits him better than it should, and gleams as he comes closer to inspect Clint's new acquisition. "Wow, that's cute. Especially on her budget. No offense, ma'am," he adds as Natasha appears out of nowhere to wrap her arms around Clint from behind, leaning into him.

"I'm not touchy about being poor. Dominance isn't about money."

"Damn straight. You should talk to Bruce for me sometime."

"Perhaps." She nuzzles Clint's back and idly knots a hand into his shirt to keep him near. He tries not to look too happy. Tony just grins at him and then launches himself at Bruce as he approaches. Bruce catches Tony and lifts him half off his feet in a huge hug before hooking a finger through his collar and drawing him back to the group. For all his exuberance, they've never seen Tony as calm as he is right now.

"Friend Clint, you are collared! Congratulations!" Thor has no indoor voice, but Clint has gotten used to having his business trumpeted in a strong Asgardian accent.

"Yeah, thanks." He touches the tag and blushes. Thor beams. His own collar has no tag, but the leash certainly makes it stand out. Right now it's clipped to his cuff, and Clint wonders if Natasha would like a similar rig when they have the money.

As if Tony has read Clint's mind, he looks around. "We're all going to prom, right? If anyone says they're not going because they're too poor, moneybags begs to differ. Hell, you can even pay me back, but we are so all going. It'll be the only normal thing my nerdy rich boy ass has ever done."


	4. Playing Dress-Up

Steve was never expecting to go to prom, but now he has Thor, and Thor is as excited for it as a kid is for Christmas. Tickets are pricey but he's buying, his family's far-greater income something they've had to tiptoe around this whole time. In the end it works if both of them think of it as a service, which it is. In their dynamic it goes both ways. Thor doesn't ask his father for any money, using his own saved allowance instead. He also uses it to rent a suit for Steve. In one of the children's sizes and Steve is really trying not to mind that. Thor says he's delicate and beautiful and really seems to mean it, which helps a little. Thor really is beautiful, and Steve is still wondering why exactly Thor had approached him. It doesn't do to show it, of course. A sub makes their choice and a dom doesn't argue against himself unless there really is something wrong with him. Besides, he guesses he loves Thor. He's pretty sure this is what it feels like, anyway, gazing up into those blue eyes.

"Perfect," Thor says, looking down at Steve. "I like this one best."

"Good, because it's the last one I'm trying on." He hasn't actually needed to punish Thor for anything and doubts that he ever will, but it's best to be firm. He's not expecting the chagrin that flashes across Thor's face, and goes on tiptoe to kiss him. "I'm just now really getting tired of it, Thor. I don't expect you to read my mind, and we did need to find the right one."

For his part, Thor actually owns black tie, and his father surprises him with the gift of a check for an ornate formal collar and lead of his own. Thor immediately takes the check to Steve, who has no idea what to say.

"Well?" Thor asks at last, kneeling at Steve's feet.

"Well. Let's go cash this and buy you a formal collar."

"And a lead, I refuse to assimilate."

Steve laughs. "Good boy. Come on." He reaches down and gives Thor a mostly cosmetic hand up, and finds himself shopping yet again. He likes looking at collars better, though, and finally chooses one (with Thor's happy agreement, of course.) The saleslady seems to find them adorable, her own pink glitter collar shimmering as she cocks her head to study them. The design they choose is black leather and delicate gold inlay, with a matching lead. Once they've gotten the right size and Steve has checked it all over for any uncomfortable spots and found none, they go back to Thor's house and up to his room. He'll model it for his parents later, but this moment is private. Steve unbuckles the plain collar he bought Thor and runs gentle fingertips around his naked neck, making him shiver.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir," Thor breathes, and lets out a tiny whimper as Steve buckles the collar around his neck

When Tony sees it the day of the prom, he stares. "Wow, Steve has good taste." He and Thor and Clint are all at his house, subs getting ready together as the doms do the same over at Steve's. The subs will be picking them up, since Tony is the only one with a license, but, as always, it's a service and they can hopefully trust their doms not to get weird about it.

Thor beams. "So I have found. What are you wearing?" 

"Red, 'cause I'm an ostentatious bastard." It's a fabulous suit, deep red with subtle gold edging, and Clint grins as Tony lays it out on the bed.

"Man, what would you do if you were a dom?" It hasn't been socially acceptable for male doms to be flashy since about the seventeenth century, and Tony grins.

"I'd just be flashy, and you know it. What about Steve?"

"Blue, to bring out his eyes," Thor says with a smile, and cheerfully strips down to his underwear, pulling on his suit trousers.

"Glad I went with black, then," Clint says. Black slacks, his stomping boots because he refuses to wear dress shoes, and a black sleeveless turtleneck under a black jacket. A little funereal, but Clint likes black and this is way more comfortable than most of his alternatives. He wears the ribbon on the outside, of course. 

Tony grins at him. "You know we're doing makeup, right?"

Clint flushes. "Are we?"

"Natasha gave me these for you when you skipped your last class the other day." To Clint's relief it's only two items, lip gloss and a black eyeliner.

"If you're fucking with me, Stark, I will end you."

"Swear I'm not," Tony says, and shrugs into his brown shirt with its glimmers of gold. "And I'll be wearing more, you know me."

He does know Tony, and carefully lines his eyes the way Barney showed him before they got split up. They do look bluer ringed by black, and the gloss is relatively unobtrusive, matching his natural color. He blushes to think of Natasha buying it, and Tony grins at him before doing something with brown and gold liners that make his eyes look deep enough to drown in. Thor uses honest to god gold glitter, so Clint feels if anything, underdressed when they finally go to collect their doms.

The blue does bring out Steve's eyes, and he looks small and neat as opposed to wretched and scrawny, Bruce is in brown because his mother had grabbed his only good shoes on their way out, and they're brown so the suit has to be. He carries it well and looks good next to Tony, but it takes Clint a while to really see anything that isn't Natasha. Her dress is blood red against her milky skin, and her smile is dazzling.

"I see you got my present."

"Yes, ma'am."


	5. Dance

Prom of course turns out to be pretty lame. It's totally safe and hunger dances aren't allowed and on and on and on. He starts to wonder if he could just get everyone a room. That would be better. They all look great and should have a chance to wreck each other. The damn foster homes probably want Clint and Natasha back at some unreasonably early curfew, though, and Steve is probably saving it for marriage. Tony sighs and sips his sparkling cider, watching Steve and Thor dance. It's adorable, Thor's big hands on those narrow shoulders, eyes downcast as Steve steers him around the floor. Natasha sits at the other side of the table, Clint kneeling at her feet and looking happy as a goddamn clam. Tony grins.

"Having fun, Clint?"

"Damn straight." He rests his head on Natasha's knee, eyes closing as she pets him.

"I was just thinking about getting everyone a room, but you guys probably have to get back, huh?"

"…Not necessarily," Natasha murmurs, and Tony can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. Bruce returns with another plate of hors d'oeuvres to share, blinking.

"What are we talking about?"

"Getting a room."

"Oh." He blushes, and Tony slides off the chair to kneel at Bruce's feet and be hand-fed. It's something they've picked up from Steve and Thor, and he's damn glad of it.

"I like the idea, but Clint and I both have a curfew. Getting forbidden from seeing him again is the last thing I want." She and Bruce share one of those sympathetic dom looks, because there's nothing an underage dom hates more than being told what to do about their sub.

"You know Tony, you could just host an afterparty," Bruce points out, and Tony beams up at him. 

"You're my favorite."

Thor and Steve prove amenable to the idea, when they finally leave the dancefloor, Steve's cheeks consumptively flushed and his eyes bright, Thor looking more subby than Tony has ever seen him, and that's up against some pretty stiff competition. Both of them are enjoying this more than their friends, but it's getting late and the refreshments are mostly eaten and the prom royalty has been chosen. This year it's a Queen and her Princess Consort, the head of the cheerleading squad and her sweet, mousey little sub picked up in the library. The girl looks stunned to be up there, and incredibly lovely in contacts and a decent dress. Steve knows her, and whoops and claps when it's announced. Thor does the same, and Tony grins at how alike they are while being completely different.

Jarvis is home, and insists on separate bedrooms for everyone, setting them up after making the necessary phone calls. He fascinates the others, with his thin, metal, professional collar, showing his bond to the Stark household rather than a particular dom. A black ribbon shows that, the traditional widow's collar. It's sad, but he seems to be doing well, and the black and silver are beautiful together. For all his insistence on proper sleeping arrangements, he doesn't object to serving each one of them two drinks to celebrate. Three for Thor, who is legally allowed to drink in his home country and is so much bigger than the others. Thor toasts him in gratitude, and Jarvis hooks up a sound system in an empty room so they can dance more. He also leaves them alone, and doesn't say anything about hunger dances.

Tony has never actually done a hunger dance, but Bruce is bringing it out in him. He's just so restrained, always ready to pull back, always afraid to hurt Tony. Now as the music turns low and slow and throbbing, Tony starts his dance. A hunger dance is performed alone, and ideally without a shirt. Tony settles for shucking his vest and jacket, his shirt already about four buttons undone. There is no choreography, only the idea of hunger, of reaching out to a dom with direst need. Tony closes his eyes, knowing the others will be watching and that that only makes it better as his hips start to sway with the beat. He sways for a while, feeling almost tearful before falling to his knees, writhing and tossing his head, beating on the floor with his palms and gazing up at Bruce, doing his best not to whimper too loudly. Bruce just stares back, eyes wide and dark as he sits at the edge of the space, watching Tony. Tony keens quietly and shudders, crawling to him with the beat. He has seen a lot of silly, giggling hunger dances, but this doesn't feel like that. This is completely serious, and Tony is flushed and desperate by the time he reaches Bruce, whining softly. He reaches for Bruce and then pulls back, again and again, waiting for permission to touch but too hungry to do it politely.

"Come to me," Bruce growls, and Tony crawls up into his lap. He seems to have awakened something in his shy dom, because Bruce actually gathers him up, gives Steve and Natasha his polite excuses in a low growl, and carries Tony off. He whimpers and presses close to Bruce, trembling all over.


	6. After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone tucks their subs in to bed.

Tony's hunger dance pretty much puts an end to things, and it's late anyway. The others switch off the sound system and Natasha and Steve walk their subs to their guest rooms. They're not surprised at all to find that Bruce has simply taken Tony back to his own room to ravish him. It's a little further away and probably for the best.

Tony whimpers as Bruce sets him on the floor. "Kneel," Bruce growls, and Tony does, shaking . Bruce cups the side of his face and gazes down into Tony's eyes. His suit is in complete disarray and he's rock hard. Tony whines and licks his lips, crying out softly when Bruce grabs his hair and yanks his head back to bare his throat and force eye contact.

"Please, sir," Tony whimpers, and Bruce shudders, palming himself through his pants with his free hand.

"You want this?" He growls, and Tony moans, nodding as best he can. "Good." He unzips and brings his cock out, glistening wet, his heartbeat making it visibly throb. Tony moans, and before he can even beg for Bruce to please fuck his throat, the slick tip is pressing into his mouth, which drops open to take it. 

Steve is doing his best not to shudder as he leads Thor to his room. He's just going to make sure Thor is comfortable and not force his sub into something he doesn't want just because another sub did a goddamn hunger dance. He holds onto this thought as tightly as the leash until Thor whispers, "Please, sir. Please touch me."

Just one soft, sweet request, and it's all over. Steve strips Thor of everything but the collar and leash, leaving him hard and shaking, dilated eyes looking at the floor because he wants Steve too much to meet his eyes. And then Steve takes Thor's chin in his hand and makes him do it anyway. There's so much need there, so naked and helpless. Steve shudders and leads Thor to the bed, pressing him down onto his back. "Four point, sweetheart. Hold steady." Thor whimpers and obeys, spread out for Steve to look at, to touch. All his. It's enough to make him feel faint, and he sits on the edge of the bed, knees weak. "So beautiful. God, Thor, you're so fucking beautiful." Steve doesn't believe in casual profanity, but strong language for strong feelings makes sense. He runs one hand along Thor's perfect abs, and blushes because it looks so tiny against all that muscle.

"You are too, sir," Thor whispers, eyes big and lost. "Oh, Steve, you're so beautiful and you don't even know it, I wish you knew it, I wish you could see—" He cuts himself off with a desperate whimper as Steve bypasses his cock to cradle his heavy balls in one hand, gently squeezing.

Natasha smiles at Clint as she leads him to his room, and he feels like a fool for blushing. He's weak in the knees and just follows, feeling brainless. He wants to give her a dance of his own but doesn't know how to say so or how to start, paralyzed.

"Natasha…"

"Hush. I'm going to blindfold you, and you're going to kneel for me."

"Yes, ma'am," He breathes, and whines as she strips her stockings off, wrapping them around and around his head, binding his eyes. He drops to his knees and whimpers as Natasha's hands come to rest on his shoulders.

"I'll have to unclasp this just for a moment, sweetheart."

He still doesn't like it, but almost before he knows it Natasha has him stripped the waist with his collar back on. "There," Natasha coos, petting him.

"Please, Mistress, please…"

"What do you want, precious boy?"

"Kiss me," He whimpers, sounding like some freshman girl with her first dom, but Natasha doesn't seem to mind at all.


	7. All's Well That Ends Well

Bruce fucks Tony's mouth, rough and hungry, and Tony whimpers and drools, letting Bruce use him. He rolls his dark eyes up to watch the hard bliss on his master's face, and whimpers softly. His lips are sore and numb, but each stroke along his tongue is so fucking good, and Bruce growls soft praise that only makes it better. Tony feels like he was made for no other purpose, whimpering and keening through his nose, swallowing and swallowing around the head of Bruce's cock. Time ceases to have any meaning, but at last Bruce comes, yanking Tony's hair and growling for him to swallow it all. Tony whines and obeys, panting as he finally slides off, lips bruised and eyes dilated.

"Do I please you, master?" Tony asks in a soft, small voice that Bruce has never heard before.

"Yes," Bruce growls, petting him, "yes, you do." Tony whimpers happily, nuzzling into Bruce's hand. He's rock hard and flushed all over, and Bruce growls, kneeling and scooping Tony into his arms. Bruce is stronger than he looks, and he's able to pick Tony up and put him on the bed. "Such a good boy," he purrs, squeezing Tony's cock and making him squeak. Bruce grins, leaning down and licking the bead of precome from the tip. He can't take it deep like Tony can, but he uses his hands on what he can't fit and soon has his boy groaning and coming hard. Bruce licks him clean and stretches out beside him, holding Tony and softly telling him what a good boy he is until he falls asleep.

Thor struggles to hold still as Steve grips and strokes his erection, making him twitch and writhe. "Please sir, please…"

"What do you want, Thor?" Steve purrs, "Tell me."

"F-fingers, sir, please, please…"

"Hush, dearest." Steve kisses him and then pushes two delicate fingers into his mouth. Thor whimpers and licks them eagerly, letting them free with a soft, needy sound when Steve pulls away. A moment later Thor keens as Steve works just one into his hole, whimpering and writhing, struggling to keep position. "God, you're so beautiful," Steve says, soft and breathless as he carefully eases a second finger into Thor, "So good. You're being so good, Thor."

Thor whimpers and bites his lip, babbling that he always wants to be good for his master, that Steve is beautiful and perfect and feels so good inside him. Steve growls, other hand gripping Thor's cock and working it in rough counterpoint to his delicate touch inside as he orders Thor to come. Thor keens again and obeys, shaking and moaning for a long time as Steve pumps his cock, milking the last of his climax from him.

"You kept position this whole time, Thor. You're so good for me." He kisses Thor softly, murmuring that he can move if he likes now. Thor whimpers and wraps around Steve, massive arms and legs holding him close. Steve groans, hiding his face in the hollow of Thor's throat, getting his own aching cock out and rutting against Thor's hard belly for an embarrassingly short time before he comes so hard it nearly triggers an asthma attack. Thor passes him his inhaler, and Steve smiles, taking the prescribed number of puffs.

"Thanks, love."

"Always, sir."

Clint whines, tied to the head of the bed with his own shirt, still blindfolded with Natasha's stockings. He knows she's naked because he can feel her against him, and it's driving him crazy. He makes some small, piteous noise and Natasha presses a finger to his lips.

"Ssshh."

He does his best to be quiet, squirming as she pinches both nipples, working them roughly and making his cock twitch. He pants and gasps, and then mewls desperately as Natasha attaches an icy-cold set of clamps to his nipples. He has no idea how long she's had them or where she's been keeping them and it really doesn't matter. She gives the connecting chain a few long, evil tugs and he comes so fast it's embarrassing. He blushes when Natasha chuckles, and mewls when she kisses him.

"I wanted to see if you could do that," she murmurs, removing the clamps and sending an aftershock through Clint that makes him moan. Natasha shivers and gently licks and sucks the sore little peaks before moving to straddle Clint's face. "My turn."

Clint whimpers and lets her ride him, helpless to do anything but lap at her sweetness, writhing in his bonds. He loves the little sounds she makes, and knows to speed up when she starts to whimper, knowing that she'll pull in a big, shaky gasp and then let it out as a moan when she comes. His lips and tongue and whole lower jaw are all numb by the time his mistress comes for a third time and climbs off, wiping his face with her discarded panties and carefully unwinding the stockings from his eyes.

"Such a sweet boy," She murmurs, and unties his wrists so he can hold her while his heartbeat comes down to normal.


End file.
